


Leather Daddy

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [128]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Canadian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF, The Boys (TV 2019) RPF
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 16:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19977076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: In Citadel, Antony Starr is an AU (alternate universe) character. He tells people he's an IT Risk Management and Computer Security Consultant (his official cover) but really he's a ex-military, sometimes mercenary, computer hacker and master thief hired by collectors and other ruthless people to steal for them: art, jewels, money, information... Citadel knows Antony's true occupation and he would never target the organization or any of its membership. Through Cit, he's met Stephen Amell (played RL) and fallen hard. This is their story.warnings for leather play, public play, verbal and physical humiliation, fisting





	Leather Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Antony Starr/Stephen Amell storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

Stephen busy with pre-production meetings all day, Antony drops into the New York office. He spends enough time there to feel like he's done something, but everything's set up and running so smoothly that by early-afternoon, he's just sitting at his desk, staring out the window and twiddling his thumbs. He sighs and checks his email, considering where they could go for dinner tonight, when the notification comes through from Citadel. Advertising its local Leather Night. Christ. He flicks through a few other emails but his brain's insistent on reminding him they moved some of the gear they bought from Northbound Leather here with them...

 _Up for playing tonight?_ he texts Stephen, not expecting an immediate response. Stephen's busy today and starts work on Monday but laying before them is a whole fucking glorious weekend.

Stephen's on a bathroom break when he checks his phone, he's just stepped out of the wash room and headed back to the huge board room they're camped out in when he thumbs through his messages. A couple from his Mom, a reminder from Christos about a call he needs to return and a message from Antony.

 _Up for playing tonight?_.

His heart kicks up pace and grinning he doesn't hesitate to type back his reply.

_Always._

Antony grins at the response and thumbs back, _Meet me at Joe's for a slice? Head over to the club after?_ He doesn't want to waste their time with a huge meal.

_See you there. x_

Stephen shoves his phone in his back pocket and heads back to his meeting, a spring in his step that wasn't there before, a smile lighting his face.

///

Stephen texts Antony when he's done for the day and Antony - who's already sent their gear and overnight bags on ahead, thanks to Citadel courier - takes a taxi over to Joe's. They talk about Stephen's day over a couple of slices and a single beer each and then grab another taxi to Citadel. Antony's already let Stephen know they're spending the night and that he's booked a room but he hasn't breathed a word about the evening planned. When they step into the foyer though, he says, casually, "You don't have your Cit notifications on, do you?"

"My what?" Stephen frowns, a little distracted, his gaze following a guy across the lobby. He's not one to overtly check out other men, and certainly not when he's with Antony, but fuck, the guy is in head to toe leather, a Tom of Finland sketch bought to life. "Sorry what?" He pulls his attention back to his husband as the guy disappears through some double doors.

Antony hands Stephen his phone, the Leather Night notification brought up, as he signs them in at the front desk.

Stephen scans the message, his eyes widening, then he looks up at Antony, he goes to speak, but finds his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. _Oh...fuck...._

"I had some things sent over," Antony says casually, accepting the keycard from the girl at the desk. "If you feel like going."

Stephen blinks, and nods, because that's all he can do. Surprised doesn't even cover it. Because leather means 'Master' - and that's not something they've done since before they had the kink break. It shows a confidence in them on Antony's part, a confidence that Stephen finds he shares, because there's not even a hint of hesitation, or of discomfort at the thought of playing slave to his Master.

Antony grins, eyes crinkling, because yeah, that's _exactly_ the response he was hoping for. "C'mon," he says, taking Stephen's hand and pulling him towards the lifts.

"Yes Sir," Stephen mumbles, following obediently in Antony's wake. His mind is suddenly full of how his Sir looks in leather, the smell of him. The power that simply rolls off his husband when they play that way.

In the lift, Antony pushes Stephen against the back wall and kisses him, tongue delving hard into his mouth, hands moving over him.

All of this does nothing but to push Stephen more and more into an exceptionally submissive head space. His hands stay at his side, he opens his mouth, kisses his Sir back with a show of his own need.

Antony groans and grinds against Stephen, cursing under his breath as the lift dings and the doors slide open. He glances over his shoulder and sure enough, it's their floor so he takes Stephen's hand again and pulls him towards their room.

Stephen's cock is trapped painfully in his pants, he tries to adjust himself as Antony pulls him along, tries and fails, so when they halt outside the door of their room he still has his hand on his groin, and it looks like he's trying to rub one out. Flushed, his pupils already bigger than they should be, he looks every kind of aroused.

"Are you touching my cock, boy?" Antony says, eyeing Stephen, keycard paused above the lock.

Stephen pulls his hand away as if it suddenly and inexplicably burnt. "No... no Sir, my cock... _your_ cock is caught..." He stammers trying to explain himself, he drops his gaze. "Boy is sorry, Sir."

"Good. I'd hate to have to change my plans for tonight," Antony says, opening the door to the room. He closes it behind them and sure enough, there are the two garment bags he sent over hanging on the back of the door. He takes a peek in the first and hands it to Stephen. "I want you to go clean yourself out, prep _really_ well and get dressed in these," he checks under the desk and slides out a boot box, "and these." Handing it over as well.

More than a little dazed at how the evening it suddenly playing out, Stephen takes the box and the garment bag and nods his understanding. _prep really well..._ means one thing, serious anal play, probably fisting. _Fuck._ And leather, leather means Sir in boots...and they're going to be in public. _Fuck._

Stephen heads to the bathroom, pausing for a moment to throw Antony one last look before he disappears inside.

He takes the time for a very quick shower, uses the douching nozzle to make sure he's as clean as he can be, then hunts out lube from the cupboard under the vanity. All this before he's even looked inside the garment hanger. Or checked out what's in the box.

While Stephen's in the washroom, Antony pours himself a scotch and sips at it while he changes. Black leather pants that zip up the sides with a snap closure pouch over his cock, a black leather vest, his chest left bare, _his_ own boots, and the "waterproof" leather gloves they bought at Northbound Leather when they were visiting Stephen's parents. A thick leather slapper gets hooked to a belt loop and he sets the box with Stephen's slave collar on the nightstand.

It takes Stephen a moment to collect himself when he does lay out the leather items his Sir had picked out for him. All black, all butter soft; a leather thong, leather chaps that leave his ass bare and his crotch framed. Wrist cuffs and heavy black leather boots. He straightens to look at himself in the mirror, and even Stephen has to admit... he looks hot. All he needs now is his slave collar.

Stepping out of the bathroom, box and carrier in hand, Stephen opens his mouth to ask Antony if he has his collar and stills - box and bag hit the floor as he simply stares at his Sir. His _Master_.

"Ohfuckohfuckfuckfuck..." Totally unaware he's speaking he can't quite process all his reactions at once.

"I was hoping for that reaction," Antony says, eyes crinkling. He crooks a finger at Stephen, beckoning him closer. Christ. His cock giving a hard jerk inside his leathers at the sight of his boy, his slave.

Stephen's moving without thought, stepping past the items he'd dropped; his only imperative is to do as he's told by the man before him. Mesmerised, bespelled, Stephen drops to his knees when he reaches Antony, hands to the floor he leans in, presses his forehead to one perfect boot for a moment before straightening.

"Good boy." Antony's cock is already aching, begging to be buried in Stephen, and for a moment he considers fucking Stephen here, now, before they go downstairs. But anticipation's good too. Both of them on edge. He unfastens Stephen's day collar and replaces it with his slave one, clicking the lock into place. "Hands and knees," he orders.

Stephen drops down, the lock on his collar bumping against his chin, down here he can't not look at Sir's boots, he's sure he can smell them too, the leather, the scent so erotic he's already achingly erect in the supple leather thong.

Antony slowly walks around Stephen, taking in every inch of his boy, his arousal only growing. He does a second circle, stopping behind Stephen, the slapper unhooked from his belt loop and tapped against one cheek and then other. "It's obviously been a while since I marked you," he says, noting that perfect unmarked muscular ass and the tiny strip of leather running down Stephen's cleft, barely hiding his cunt.

"Yes Sir," Stephen murmurs, the light taps nothing more than a tease. He can feel the air on the skin of his buttocks, he feels exposed, on show, and it turns him on. On show, hungry and needy for his Sir's attention, for the humiliation he hopes will be part of their evening.

Antony slaps each cheek again, hard and then harder. He nudges Stephen's legs open wider and gives his balls a good tap with the slapper.

Grunting, Stephen rocks forward a little with the blow to his balls, but the pain does nothing to diminish his pleasure, indeed he tilts his hips up a little more, his posture perfect. "Boy thanks you."

"Good." Antony grins, impressed as always. He brings the slapper in again, alternating between cheeks, wanting them good and red and starting to bruise before they head downstairs.

A little light impact play is nothing more than an appetiser for whatever plans Antony has lined up, Stephen's sure of that, so he relaxes into it, lets the endorphins start to wash over him, providing him with that lovely buzzy head space that will allow him to take so much more later on. He gifts his Sir his noises, keeps his position as it should be; is the perfect bitch for his owner.

"Good boy," Antony praises when he's done, the slapper hooked back on his belt loop. He reaches down, grabbing Stephen's cheeks and digging his fingers in. Intensifying the burn.

Biting down on his lower lip, Stephen winces at that, but he doesn't pull back, simply soaks it up. Tonight he gets to be on the receiving end of anything this wickedly sexy man decides to do to him.

"Christ, you're a good boy. My good boy, my good pig, my fuck toy," Antony breathes, twisting even harder before he lets go and slides a finger under the thong, pushing it deep into Stephen's hole.

 _Fuck Yeah..._ Stephen moans loudly at the intrusion, rocks back a little greedily onto his Sir's finger. The words warm him, the praise feels so good, the nasty names arousing him further still. "Boy thanks you for using him."

"I've barely started," Antony promises, pushing a second finger inside that tight heat. Both curled to rub against his boy's prostate. "I'm going to have my whole hand in your cunt by the end of the evening. In front of everyone."

"Please Sir," Stephen swallows hard, the last time they played hard in public was in Goa, and that had left Stephen with some very ambiguous feelings about his submission and displaying himself in such a vulnerable fashion. Now though, now they are on a steadier footing, and he knows he can do this, the leather reframes it for him, he's ready, willing to become Antony's sex toy once more.

"My dirty filthy fuck pig," Antony says, rubbing just a little bit harder before he draws back completely, his fingers pulled free of Stephen's ass. He wipes them on the side of his leg and spends a moment just drinking in the sight of his boy. "Now you're going to crawl downstairs and into the bar. You're not to stand unless given permission."

Stephen is already trembling with arousal, he turns his head to look up at his Sir. "Yes Sir, might boy ask for something?"

Antony nods. "Go ahead."

"Would Sir consider putting his pig on a leash?" It's not something they've done before, but it feels, right and proper, here like this.

Antony thinks about that for a moment then nods again, the throb of his cock underlining just how much _it_ likes the idea. He nods again. "Sir would," he says with a small smile, stepping away to the cabinets. He rummages in the drawers for a moment before coming up with what he wants. "Here we go," the leash clipped onto one of the links on Stephen's slave collar. Fuck. "We might have to get one of these of our own."

"Boy thinks so Sir," Stephen smiles, the weight of the chain tugging on his collar. "Thank you for indulging your pig."

He nudges against Antony's leg. "Boy is ready Sir, to be your toy, your amusement."

"Good." Antony gives Stephen a full-on smile, petting his gloved fingers through his hair, before he grabs his wallet and keycard and lets them out of the room, the lights turned off behind them. He leads his boy back down the hall and presses the button for the lift, not too surprised to find another couple - Sir and boy in leather - already on it.

Stephen pays the other couple no mind, his attention is fixed very firmly on Antony, as they move he keeps brushing against his Sir's leg, his gaze moving from his Sir'boots to the floor before him and back again. On one hand he feels naked, on another he's in a bubble of their making, intimate and sensual.

When the doors open, Antony leads Stephen out, heading for the bar. They're early but not too early, the bar already more than half full, and he grabs a table with good sight lines.

Stephen waits for Antony to be seated before settling on his knees, his hands set, palm up on his thighs. He takes the opportunity to scan the room, there are many male/male couples here, more so than he might usually expect at a Citadel event, and they range in age from young twinks to older bear types, all clad in leather. Stephen finally turns his gaze on his Sir, for him, there is no one else who simply oozes sex and power like his owner.

Antony passes the leash to his left hand and sets his right on the back of Stephen's neck, fingers spanning the links of his collar. He checks out the room as well, gaze flickering over the flesh and leather on display, none of which interests him like his boy. His slave. "I could use a drink, boy."

"Yes Sir. Scotch?" Stephen looks up expectantly, his face turned to his Sir as if his Sir were the sun.

Antony nods, slightly tightening his grip on Stephen's nape. "Make it a double."

Stephen doesn't let his surprise show, he simply nods. "Yes Sir." He waits for Antony to move his hand, and either hand over the leash or give it to Stephen so he can move.

"Teeth, boy," Antony orders, holding out the handle of the leash for Stephen to take. "It stays in your mouth and you stay on the floor until you have to stand and order and bring my drink back."

"Yes Sir," Stephen opens his mouth and catches the folded leather in his teeth. He drops down onto his hands and knees again, and then moves toward the bar, making sure his posture is perfect, knowing his Sir is watching him, wanting to be perfect, wanting Antony to be proud of him. He moves confidently through the crowd until he reaches the bar, then he rolls to his feet.

Antony watches Stephen's every move, his gaze taking in the others watching him, knowing they won't dare touch, that everything about his boy screams 'owned'. He spreads his thighs a little wider, his cock pressing already against the leather, the thought of what he has planned firing every nerve in his body. "Good boy," he murmurs to himself, watching Stephen gracefully rise at the bar.

Stephen picks up Antony's double scotch and a bottle of water for himself. He carries both back to Antony, drops to his knees to offer the glass to his Sir, the leash still caught between his teeth.

"Good boy," Antony says again, this time for Stephen, as he takes a sip of his drink and takes the leash back. "You looked good crawling. Everyone watching my pig," he pushes his boot between Stephen's thighs, right up against his cock. "Knowing they can't touch him. That he's fucking _owned_. That only Master gets to shove his cock and fist in his cunt."

Stephen grunts at that, his gaze fixed on his Sir's face. He holds himself still, overriding the urge to rut against Antony's boot. "Owned," he agrees, his voice throaty. "Absolutely, Pig is honoured to be owned by you."

"And Pig would do anything for Master," Antony says softly, the look in his eye turning downright wicked, the pressure behind his boot increased by a fraction.

Licking over his lower lip, Stephen nods. "Yes Master." The word still feels odd in his mouth, but the discomfort he used to experience at its use is no longer present. He knows Antony will allow him to swap back and forth between 'Sir' and 'Master' as he needs, his behaviour and attitude more important than a word.

Antony grins and dips his finger - waterproof leather gloves are the best - into his scotch then leans forward, painting Stephen's lips with the liquor before pushing his fingers between them, into his mouth. "Suck. Like you would my cock." Pushing still harder with his boot.

 _Fuck..._ The taste of leather and scotch, both are flavours he associates with his lover, now, mixed, they are a heady aphrodisiac indeed. Holding that oh so intense gaze, Stephen sucks greedily on his Sir's fingers, well aware his rigid cock is mashed up against the sole of Sir's leather boot. The sound of the room falls away as Stephen is caught in a spell of Antony's weaving.

Antony groans, his cock jerking sharply. He lets Stephen go to town on his fingers but finally pulls back, a shudder of arousal running through his frame. "I want you on the table, on your back, knees bent and heels on the edge."

Drawing the back of his hand over his mouth, Stephen's gaze turns to the table, he sizes it up, it's big enough for him to lay on, and it's not too high. He clears it off, setting his own water underneath and then climbs up, sprawling on his back, his heels tugged up against his ass, his thighs splayed. Stephen's amused to discover the ceiling has mirrored tiles.

"Christ," Antony breathes, moving between Stephen's legs, running his hands over his boy's bared thighs, thumbs teasing his cock in its leather pouch. "Look at you."

"Is boy pleasing?" Stephen looks up at his Sir, he feels exposed, on show, but it's what Antony wants.

Antony nods. "More than pleasing. Boy is so fucking hot," he says, leaning over Stephen as he slides his hands up his chest, rolling his nipples between his fingers then pinching them hard.

Stephen's hands are tucked down at his sides, but they curl up into fists as Antony teases him with that lick of pain. He arches up a little and moans softly. "Thank you Sir..." He can still taste the leather and scotch on his tongue, it all adds up to the heady concoction of sensual overload.

Antony leans back and pulls the slapper from its belt loop, tapping it against the insides of Stephen's thighs, his free hand running over Stephen's cock, balls, fingertips teasing along the thong, pressing against it where it covers his hole.

Stephen doesn't squirm, he's far too well trained for that, so he bites down on his lower lip and takes it all, the pleasure, the pain, his Sir's attention. His cock rears up in its leather covering, full and hard.

Antony slaps the insides of Stephen's thighs harder, trailing the edge over his cock in a wicked tease. Pushes the leather just into Stephen's hole, his own cock throbbing needfully.

"Boy thanks you Sir," Stephen murmurs as the sting from the leather slapper starts to register, the inside of his thighs are tender, the pain radiates out, flushing his skin, his body reacting by flooding his system with feel good endorphins. It's the start of what Stephen is sure will be a beautiful 'trip' at the hands of his most beloved sadist.

They may be in public but for Antony there's nothing and no one but Stephen. He works over Stephen's thighs, slaps his balls a couple of times, pushes the leather thong as deep as it'll go into his boy's ass and saves his cock for last, his gaze locked on Stephen's face when he strikes it with the flat of the slapper.

Gaze locked with that of his Sir's Stephen flinches as the blows land on his cock, he gives his reactions up eagerly, after all Sir deserves them, deserves all that Stephen has to offer.

Antony fastens the slapper to his leathers again and walks around the table. He unsnaps the front of his pants, freeing his cock and gives himself a rough couple of strokes, his cock over the table, right beside Stephen's face.

The temptation to turn his head, to open his mouth, to beg for a taste is almost too much. Stephen can _smell_ Antony's arousal, the heavy musk accentuated and enhanced by the leather. His gaze flits between is Sir's face and that beautiful thick, long cock. _I want it, I want to choke on it, I want these people to see me take all my Sir has._

"You want this?" Antony grins, watching Stephen watch him, the thoughts - the sheer want - written clearly on his features.

"Always Sir, boy is always hungry to worship your cock," Stephen's voice is low, low enough that only Antony will hear him. "Please?"

"Please?" Antony keeps on stroking, groaning as his hand moves over his cock.

Stephen's brow wrinkles and he shifts in his place, a movement borne of frustration and need. "Yes, please Sir... please use boy..." He tries again. He's aware on the periphery of their 'bubble' that people are starting to gather to watch, he can hear some of the comments, made in voices clear enough to travel. _Don't let me fail, not here, not like this._

Antony nods, moving just enough that he can push his cock against Stephen's mouth, between his lips. "Take it," he orders, reaching for Stephen's nipples again, pinching them and twisting them between his fingers.

Opening his mouth Stephen sucks down greedily on his Sir's erection, the taste of precum blossoms over his tongue and he whimpers his pleasure, even as his Sir resumes tormenting his nipples, the bites of pain adding to the joy of being used.

"That's it. Suck it. Take it all, pig," Antony murmurs, watching his cock disappear into his boy's mouth, down his throat, his balls already starting to draw up tight.

Stephen relaxes his throat, it's barely a conscious effort any more, he can feel his jaw stretch as the thick meat of Antony's cock fills his mouth. He starts to suck, moves his tongue as much as he can with the limited space available.

Antony groans, the sound welling up from low in his chest, his cock throbbing, deep in Stephen's throat. He shifts, pushing deeper still, groin pressed to his boy's face, giving him every last inch, pride filling him at the way Stephen takes it. "That's a good pig," he growls, abusing Stephen's nipples. "Take it all. Take my fucking cock."

Leather, sex, musk, Antony... it's all Stephen can smell, as he drags in his breath through his nose, Antony's pubic hair tickles his face, and he keeps his eyes closed all the better to be in the moment, to savour pleasuring his Sir and being used like this.

It's tempting to hold back, wait and come in Stephen's ass, but Antony has plans and so he fucks his boy's throat harder and faster, getting off on the sounds Stephen makes beneath him.

Even with practise, even knowing Antony knows his limits, Stephen starts to struggle. Antony's cock is so large, and being throat fucked this roughly at this angle is pushing Stephen, enough he has to push down the panic, not so much he lets it win, lets it derail what his Sir is doing to him. Gurgling, spit spilling down his face Stephen takes it all.

"Fuck, yes," Antony growls, shuddering with pleasure, letting everyone around them see how much his boy is taking, how much he's pleasing his Sir, his Master, knowing damn well there's not another in the room who could take him like this. And then he's there, right there, and he shouts, hips hitching as he spills hot and heavy down Stephen's throat.

Stephen tries his best to swallow, but the cum bubbles up around Antony's shaft in his mouth, spilling out joining the spit and the tears that paint his flushed face. He looks like a mess, a used, abused mess, but Stephen takes great satisfaction in knowing he's pleased his Sir and Master.

"Look at you," Antony says softly, pulling out, rubbing his cock through the mess on Stephen's face. "Nothing but a filthy fuck pig, every hole, every inch of you, made for my use."

"Yes Master..." Stephen slurs out, his voice hoarse from the throat fucking. "Your pig."

Antony's cock gives another rough throb at the way those words slip from Stephen's lips. Unchecked. He walks back around his boy, his cock still out, trailing his fingers down Stephen's chest to his belly, his groin, his cock. Rubbing him through the leather pouch.

The inside of the leather pouch is sticky with Stephen's pre-cum and he moans unashamedly when his Sir fondles him like that. Stephen fights against the urge to lift his head to look down his body at his owner; he's not been given permission to move out of the precise position he's been placed in and he's not about to be anything other than perfectly behaved.

Antony gives Stephen's cock a good hard squeeze and moves back between his thighs, the thong pulled from his boy's hole and shifted to the side, exposing his cunt.

Stephen's lubed hole actually flutters in anticipation when Antony bares it to the air. His tongue slides over his lower lip, tasting Sir's semen, before he bites down on the plump flesh as he whimpers in need.

"This is what you want, isn't it, pig?" Antony grins at his boy, rubbing two leather-clad fingers over his hole before pushing just inside.

"Nnngghhh," Stephen cries out, his head thrown back, his throat bared, as Antony breaches his hole. He's more than thankful for the lube applied earlier, he's certain Antony will spare him nothing out here where people can see him. His Sir getting off on debasing his slave for an audience.

Two fingers quickly become three, Antony crooking them to rub over that bundle of nerves, his gaze locked on his boy. "Such a greedy little bitch... made for my hand, my cock, my fist... to be my fuck toy..." He may have just come but he's still hard as hell, the tension in the air, between them, electric.

Stephen's fingers tighten on the edge of the table, his knuckles white as he fights to keep still. "Your bitch...your fuck toy. Masters slave..." he grinds out, his teeth bared.

Antony nods at a server, gesturing to his hand, and a tub of lube appears beside him an instant later. Christ. You've got to love this place. "Master's slave," he agrees, slathering the thicker lube over his glove and pushing deeper, four fingers now, opening his boy's hole. "Look at that cunt, so fucking hungry... it barely needs any work any more before it's _gaping_..."

Stephen pushes down around those questing fingers, a move he knows will make the flesh unfurl into a 'rose' should his Sir decide to pull his hand free. The hypersensitive reddened flesh would be out there for all to see. He's never done that in public before - never wanted to debase himself that far.

Breath catching in his throat, his cock aching, so fucking hard against his leathers, Antony fucks his fingers deeper, thumb tucked in against his palm, Stephen's body blossoming around his hand. He draws back, a groan spilling from his lips at the way Stephen's hole, his cunt, begs for more, opens up even further, following his movements, the pink flesh now visible for all to see. "That's it, pig. You keep that out there," he urges, rubbing the pads of his gloved fingers all around the rose, one finger pushed deep inside it, slowly fucking it. "Push it out, boy."

Stephen does, he bears down, his eyes closed against the people watching them, concentrating instead on the feel of his Sir's finger, the sound of Antony's breathing, the creak and whisper of leather.

"My cock or my fist, pig. Which do you want?" Antony says, working two fingers into that exposed flesh, aching to have both inside his boy, but he's not about to do that to Stephen, not out here, not in public, not yet.

It takes Stephen a moment to process his Sir's question, his brain foggy from pleasure and subspace. He opens his mouth to answer all that comes out is a distorted croak, so he swallows and tries again, swiping his tongue around his mouth to wet it. "Fist...please..." It's what he thinks his Master wants rather than his preference; after all, right now he's 'slave' and only here for his owner's pleasure.

Antony nods. His cock throbs needfully at the words but fisting Stephen? Is always going to be his bulletproof kink. "Good choice," he murmurs, scooping another glob of lube from the tub and pushing his fingers back into that rose, working them in deeper, two becoming three then four, his boy's body opening up easily for him.

Stephen's head falls back, his mouth open as his breathing stutters. All he can process is how his Sir is working his ass open, the pressure is intense, it's intoxicating, making is head swim and his skin hypersensitive, so every time he moves and the leather he's wearing shifts he shivers in pleasure. "Please..." he mumbles. "Pleasepleaseplease..."

"I'm getting there, boy," Antony assures him, only peripherally aware of the people around them, the sounds and the moans and the hands moving over flesh and leather beside them. He tucks his thumb in against his palm and pushes deeper still, Stephen's muscles suddenly - fuck, so suddenly - giving way, his body, his cunt, taking him in to the wrist.

Stephen keens; the sound low and long, a noise of exquisite pleasure threaded through with the sweet pain that a true masochist craves. His entire body shivers, a shudder brought about by the overwhelming sensations being visited on him. Stephen's breathing becomes more ragged, stuttering harshly in his chest, sounding almost panicked.

"That's it, pig," Antony drawls, so fucking hard now he can barely breathe much less speak. "You take my fist. You keep that cunt open and you take it like the nasty filthy fuck pig you are." Letting his fingers curl into a fist, that fist pulled back and pushed in again and again. " _My_ fuck pig." His other hand on Stephen's leg, focused on keeping him steady, keeping him focused on Antony, on his Master and what's happening between _them_.

Those words, that voice, they tether him to the present. Stopping Stephen from disintegrating under the onslaught of intense physical and emotional sensations. _Fuck Pig_ Under these circumstances, this is the sweetest of endearments from Antony, from his Master.

Antony 'punches' Stephen's hole over and over, pulling his fist all the way out before driving back in, the muscle loosened to the point Stephen's body just _takes_ him. Gaping for the seconds he leaves him empty, hungry, begging for more. "Nothing but a hole for this, for my fist. I own you, pig. Every fucking inch of you inside and out is mine."

Stephen slides off into a totally non verbal head space, disassociating from the intensity of the things being done to his body. All tension bleeds out of his body, leaving him slack. Nothing more than an object for Antony to amuse himself with.

Aware Stephen's completely under, Antony pays even closer attention to his boy as he slows his movements right down and goes for depth instead, working his forearm and then his elbow inside Stephen.

Stephen's mouth falls open, his eyes stare unseeing as he takes it all. He's unaware of what Antony is doing, unaware of his body and its responses. He's floating in some quiet place, disconnected, disengaged.

"That's a good pig," Antony praises, his cock giving a rough throb as Stephen's body takes his elbow. He's aware of the people around them, watching, jerking off, touching each other, but his focus is on Stephen. Always on Stephen. "That's it. I fucking own you. Every inch, inside and out," he says softly, his tone more important than the actual words as he wraps his free hand around Stephen's cock, stroking him as he slowly draws back to his fist again.

Stephen is oblivious to their audience, oblivious to every thing other than the fist in his ass and the touch to his hypersensitive cock. He cries out as his Sir starts to stroke him, it's so intense that he's not sure he can take it - but he can't articulate it either way. So he lies there, takes it all.

"I want you to come for me," Antony orders, twisting his fist so his knuckles press against Stephen's prostate, his other hand working his boy's cock, precome slicking his movements.

Antony's words come at Stephen from a distance, garbled and incoherent. He makes no sense of them, but his Sir's voice is soothing, a welcome noise in the silence of his brain. His cock shoots an involuntary spurt of precum, and his eyes roll into the back of his head as the pleasure starts to explode and expand to consume his entire body.

"That's it. That's a good pig," Antony praises, stroking Stephen through his orgasm, his knuckles rubbing against that sweet spot again and again. " _My_ good pig." And Christ he wants to fuck his boy, right here and right now, but he's damned if he wants to do it with a condom between them: Stephen's earned his cunt being filled, bred, with his Master's come.

Stephen has never experienced anything like this feeling; it's like being utterly wasted on pleasure, when every nerve ending, every fibre of his being is drenched in the most exquisite bliss. When his orgasm tails off, it leaves him twitching and limp, utterly spent.

"Good boy," Antony murmurs, smiling, letting go of Stephen's cock and starting to ease his hand from his body. "Here we go. Almost done."

Stephen's given up trying to process anything, he can't think, can't speak, can't communicate with Antony. So any and all responses are involuntary. His body continues to twitch, his skin goosebumping as he starts to shiver.

"Bring me a blanket," Antony orders a nearby server, wiping his hand on his leathers. He helps Stephen sit up, hugging him close and wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. "Can you walk?"

Stephen allows himself to be sat up, but when Antony speaks to him it's all he can do to stare at his Master, he's so lost in his headspace, he sees Antony's mouth move, but he can't process the sounds that come from it.

"Okay, let's move to a booth," Antony says, the way Stephen looks at him letting him just how far under his boy is. Luckily, it's a short ways to a soft bench and Antony slides in first, tucking a blanket-wrapped Stephen in against him, the same server who brought the blanket moving their drinks along with them. "I'm so proud of you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Stephen's temple. He knows he needs to actively bring back him back up but he wants to give him a few minutes at least to simply be.

When Antony's arms envelope him, Stephen turns his face to nuzzle in, unconsciously seeking his Sirs scent. Eyes closed he lets out a long sigh, relaxing into the safe space of his owner's protection.

///

Antony finally gets Stephen upstairs and into their room, his lover growing increasingly aware and responsive. He makes sure Stephen has water, gets him cleaned up with a warm washcloth and towel, undressed and curls up with him on the bed, figuring a nap will do them both good. He doesn't bother shedding his own leathers, just wraps his arms around Stephen and holds him tight, a blanket pulled up around them.

Stephen doesn't so much sleep, or even doze, rather he hovers in a half aware state, his body twitching randomly as muscles resettle, the incredible effect of a deluge of endorphins wanes. He licks over his lower lip, reaches to attend to an itch, somewhat surprised when his hand actually moves without conscious effort.

"Hey," Antony murmurs, his voice thick with sleep, waking the moment Stephen stirs. "How're you doing?"

Stephen clears his throat, "M'okay," he offers quietly. "Still floating."

"Is that good?" Antony asks, checking in, making sure Stephen's where he wants to be.

"Uh huh," Stephen nods. "S'good, like being high."

Antony chuckles. "I'm glad," he says, kissing the top of Stephen's head. "Can I get you anything?"

"Some soda? You naked?" Stephen tips his face up to Antony's, blinking as he tries to focus.

Antony shakes his head. "I just wanted to curl up with you," he says. "You want me naked?" Making to get out of bed and grab Stephen's drink.

"Uh huh." What Stephen wants is to drape himself over Antony and nuzzle into the fur covering his Sir's chest, the scent there will soothe and centre him as he comes to fully.

Antony strips, tossing his leathers onto a nearby chair, and pads to the mini-fridge, grabbing a couple bottles of water and a Coke for Stephen. He also picks up a bag of peanuts and another of chips just in case, dumping everything on the bedside table. He cracks open the Coke and slips back under the covers with his husband, handing it over. "You want anything to eat? I can call down."

"No, no, I'm not hungry," Stephen takes the pop and takes a long drink, pausing to smother a belch against his hand. "'Scuse me." He shifts a little to sit up more, wincing as he takes more weight on his butt.

"Sore?" Antony asks, even though it's more out of courtesy than any actual doubt.

"Uh, yeah!" Stephen throws his Sir a look as he lifts the can of soda to his mouth again. "I'm sore and I feel like I need the bathroom."

"You want help getting there?" Antony offers, opening a bottle of water.

"No, I don't mean I need it right now, I mean I feel like I need to go," Stephen grimaces and shifts again. "It feels different."

"You took my elbow," Antony says, thinking that might have a lot to do with it.

Stephen's eyes widen at that. "I did?" He lowers the can, a bead of the cola clinging to his lower lip before he swipes it away with his tongue. "In front of all those people?" He can't remember who or how many were watching as their scene progressed, but he's pretty sure they will have attracted plenty of voyeurs.

Antony nods. "You were amazing," he tells him.

"Jesus." He gives his head a little shake before taking another long drink from the can.

"You okay with that?" Antony asks, watching Stephen. They've come a long way in this last while, Stephen more comfortable again in his submission than he was, but Antony still wants to be sure. Check in.

Stephen finishes the pop and sets the can aside before answering. "Yeah, well I'm not freaking out, am I? My head's still all kinds of fuzzy, and my ass is _sore_ , but yeah, I think I am. I mean, you got off hard yeah? Using me like that."

Antony smiles and nods, eyes crinkling. "I did. I didn't come after you sucked me off but I was so fucking hard the whole time."

"Oh!" Stephen's gaze drops to Antony's groin before being coming back up again. "Um..." His immediate urge is to apologise, which is ridiculous given Antony could have used him in any shape or form to attend to his need if he had wanted to.

"It's okay," Antony assures him. "I didn't come because I didn't want to use a condom. I thought you'd earned being bred properly."

And just like that, with the casual use of 'bred', Stephen falls back into his submissive head space. He'd been down hard while they'd played, and had barely gotten a handle on it. He squirms against his Sir, his gaze falling away, his breath catching in his throat as his body responds.

"You want that now?" Antony asks, arousal lighting up every nerve in an instant. "Or do you want me to bring you back up?" This time, tonight, he'll go out of his way to give Stephen the choice. He's earned that as well, with everything he's already taken.

"Now..." Stephen murmurs, his lashes lowered, his voice almost dreamy in tone. "Please Sir..." He glances up to meet Antony's gaze for a brief moment before looking away again.

Fuck. Antony's breath catches at that glance and his cock throbs, instantly hard again. "Hands and knees then," he orders. "Show me that cunt."

Slowly Stephen pushes up, his body aches, muscles strained from the tension and unusual position he'd held himself in down in the bar. Slow he may be, but once he is up on his knees his posture is perfect, his ass tilted just a little in display, not pride, his head held just so.

Antony reaches for the lube, giving his cock a quick swipe, the rest spread over and just into Stephen's hole. And then he's spreading his boy's cheeks wide, a low groan spilling from him at the sight of it, open and waiting for his cock. For his seed. He pushes in, slow and steady, giving Stephen a few seconds to adjust before he sinks deep.

It hurts, it's more than uncomfortable, his ass, his hole is sore from being stretched; but Stephen takes it, he takes it because it will please Antony. He takes it because he wants, _needs_ to feel fully marked and bred by his owner. So his fingers curl into the bed clothes, and he holds his posture, letting out a pained noise as Antony's hips meet his ass.

"That's it. Good boy," Antony praises, because that's what this is about. Stephen's reward. His pleasure but Stephen's reward.

"Always good...for you..." Stephen offers through clenched teeth, his knuckles are white where he's clawing at the bed and he's trembling ever so slightly. He's reaching the end of what he can take today, the unrelenting physical and mental stress of allowing himself to be used so very thoroughly is starting to show.

"Gonna make it quick," Antony murmurs, his thrusts slow but steady. "That's how hot you get me. I've been ready to come for hours."

"Please..." Stephen whimpers. "Please Sir...mark boy." He pushes back, his eyes closed tight as he concentrates on where he and his Sir are joined.

"Mm-hm," Antony nods, pleasure cresting quickly. "Gonna breed your cunt." Fingers digging into Stephen's hips as he goes over with a shout, pouring every last fucking drop of his seed into his boy.

Stephen stills, stuck in his head space he waits to be directed to move. He's sure he can feel Antony's cock throbbing along with his stuttered heart rate deep inside him. "Thank you. Thank you Sir."

"You're welcome. You deserved it," Antony says, taking a moment to simply savour the tight heat of his boy's body. His ownership. And then he pulls out, dropping to the bed and urging Stephen down with him. "Lie down, Stephen. It's okay. I've got you."

The deliberate use of his name tells Stephen that Antony wants to start pulling him up out of the haziness of his subspace. He settles down beside his Sir, snugging up as close as he can. "Hold me," he pleads softly. "Please."

"Of course," Antony says, wrapping his arms around Stephen and pulling him in close. "I love you," he whispers, pressing a kiss to Stephen's temple. "More than anything or anyone in this world."

Finally Stephen can relax, he lets all the tension bleed from his body as Antony's words and caresses sooth him. "I love you too," he murmurs back, smothering a yawn against salty skin.


End file.
